Vengence for Scooty
by Captain Top Hat
Summary: The tree frog inhabitants of the island seek revenge. Poor Sawyer...Random and fun.


Disclaimer: I don't own Lost. Or the tree frog.

A/N: This isn't my idea. Just thought I'd say that right off the bat. A friend of mine asked me to right a revenge story for the frog after she saw 'One of Them'. She (her words) sucks at writing and wanted me to do this. So, story by Sarah, words by Captain Top Hat.

Vengeance for Scooty

He'd spent the better part of the day hunting down a noisy tree frog with Hurley, all so he could get some much needed sleep.

But when it finally came time to sleep, Sawyer just couldn't. Sure, sleeping under a tarp and on top of a pile of sand isn't the easiest thing to do, but he normally managed it. He could drown out the voices and the waves and the occasional crying baby and drift into a peaceful slumber.

But not tonight. He just couldn't get comfortable. He was strangely aware of the rough sand beneath him and the noises from outside his tent. Something was stopping him from sleeping.

Then he heard a noise.

A noise that made his eyes shoot open and a look of anger/terror/disbelief appear on his face.

It was a tree frog. Another God damn tree frog.

"You've gotta be kiddin' me." He growled, standing up.

He reached into a suitcase and produced a nine mm.

"Little son of a bitch."

He stormed out of the tent and as he began to trek through the jungle, yet again, in search of the little guy, he froze.

Looking around the camp his mouth dropped open and Sawyer let out a resounding,

"Oh shit."

Everyone was gone. The fire still burned and the tents were still there but not a single soul could be seen on the beach. It was deserted.

Except for the few thousand tree frogs scattered across the sand.

"What the fu-" As he stumbled back into the tent he tripped on something and landed flat on his face.

Shaking his head to dislodge the sand from his hair, Sawyer opened his eyes. One of them was sitting next to his head, staring at him.

Sawyer reached out to flatten the bastard when it spoke to him.

"You think you're so great, don't you?"

Sawyer froze.

"You think 'oh, look at me! I have opposable thumbs and I'm one hundred feet tall!'" It mimicked him in a croaky voice. "'Why don't I go squish things with my enormous hands!'"

Sawyer gawped at the frog.

"Well, you know what?" It said. "You're not great. You're mean. And you're a bully!"

"Big fat bully!" Another hissed in his ear. It was sitting on his head but he was too shocked to bat it off.

"What did Scooty ever do to you?" It asked, hoping forward.

Finally Sawyer let out,

"Kept me awake."

The frog on his head sprang off when it felt him begin to rise.

Sawyer stood up and glared at the frog who had asked him the question.

"You're chirpy little friend kept me up. I just wanted to sleep. If he'da let me he wouldn't have-"

"Silence!" It croaked. "Seize him!"

Sawyer smirked as three frogs leaped onto his shoe.

"You're kiddin' me, right?"

Then the other four hundred frogs dissented upon him.

They managed to topple him and again he landed face down in the sand.

"Son of a…" He let out.

"Scooty has suffered." Spoke the lead frog. "And now he will be avenged."

Hundreds more of the tree frogs hoped into Sawyer's tent and gathered around him.

"So whatcha gonna do about it?" He grunted. He struggled beneath the some five hundred frogs on his back and legs.

The frog seemed smile as his followers laughed evilly.

"Do you like crackers, James?"

"Hey Hurley." Libby said, smiling.

"Hey." Hurley answered back.

She walked up to him as he stood washing his clothes in the basin on the beach.

"Why aren't you using the washer in the hatch?" She asked, pushing some hair behind her ear.

"Locke said something about stayin' outta it." He shrugged. "Said Sayid was doing some work in there and we can't go in till he's done."

Libby nodded and offered to help him. She glanced across the beach and spotted something that made her worry.

"Hurley."

"Yeah."

"Why is Sawyer doing that?"

He followed her gaze and his mouth fell open.

Sawyer was crouched at the bottom of a nearby tree. His arms were rapped around his shoulders and he was rocking back and forth. Every time he rocked towards the tree he would whack his forehead off of it and mumble something. His eyes were wide open and Hurley was fairly sure the man hadn't blinked since they began watching him.

"Um…should we, you know, get Jack?" He asked Libby, not taking his eyes off of Sawyer.

Rock back, rock forward, bash head, mumble. Rock back, rock forward, bash head, mumble. It was almost hypnotic.

"I think he's needs more than a doctor." Libby walked towards Sawyer and Hurley followed.

"Sawyer?" She asked in her calmest voice, looking down at him. "Are you alright?"

He just continued his little routine. Libby knelt down next to him and spoke again.

"Sawyer? Do you need any help?"

Rock back, rock forward, bash head, mumble.

Libby gently placed her hand on his shoulder. He froze millimeters from the tree. His eyes moved up to meet hers. Still no blinking.

"Two thousand more to go." He whispered. "Can't stop now."

Then his eyes moved back to looking at the tree, on which he bashed his forehead a second later. Libby leaned in to hear what he mumbled.

She stood up and turned to Hurley.

"Well?" He asked.

"He says, 'Scooty says burn, Sawyer, burn.'"

There were a few moments before Libby said,

"So what do you think Sayid is doing?" Before the two walked back to the basin.


End file.
